


no more hiding

by qrizzly



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qrizzly/pseuds/qrizzly
Summary: Michael swallows, running his hands through the other's hair, almost as a nervous tick. "You're really whippin' the 'what are we' talk right out, huh? At four in the morning?"





	no more hiding

Michael's favorite nights are late nights. Except, not the ones where he stays up half-dead at one in the morning finishing some assignment, or just smoking and gaming 'cause he feels like it. His favorite nights are the ones where he has someone to stay up  _with_ \-- and though he's trying to get closer to the others, it's still mostly Jeremy. His favorite nights are when he's delirious with lack of sleep or weed or both, and every little thing can make him cry-laugh inexplicably, and he finds himself not caring about the ache in his head or eyes.  
  
They tend to sneak up on him and are never actually planned. This time, when Jeremy comes over, he expects to study together with him until they finally reach that "thank god" moment when they finish, and then they can play video games until it's time to sleep.  
  
What he doesn't expect is to finish early, with Jeremy dragging behind until ten PM writing an essay he'd completely forgotten about.  
  
The basement is dark except for the lamp on the bedside table, a needed dimness so they can at least pretend they're asleep. Bright rays from Michael's phone keep him awake on his spot on the bed (which is all of the bed). He saves a video Brooke posted of Rich dancing way too vigorously when he hears a groan from the floor. Jeremy's face is on his laptop, causing the empty page of his essay to fill up with a continuous "gthyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy..."  
  
"I can't focus. I just read over the words 'Emancipation Proclamation' so many times I feel like I'm gonna vom every time I even think about it."  
  
Michael tosses a half-filled bag of Lays onto Jeremy's back -- partly to tease, partly to help. "Don't think about it then," he offers. He's always up for some academic proficiency, but sometimes it's really no use and you gotta give yourself breaks.  
  
Jeremy doesn't move. "You know, this is always super nice, and you're really cool, but I can't keep ditching assignments for vidya games, man," he mumbles into the keyboard. "This is due Tuesday."  
  
"Do it tomorrow, then. You'll at least remember it exists, right?" Michael teases, ignoring the warmth in his chest.  
  
After a silence, Michael crawls from his position on his stomach, instead dangling over the bed to murmur directly in Jeremy's ear. "I'll let you watch me get mad at Mario Maker."  
  
Jeremy's head turns, and even sideways, his goofy, delighted smile is positively stunning. "Awesome! I love you," is Michael's reward as well as a platonic ( _very_  platonic, Michael) peck on the nose.  
  
Michael's laugh is buried in the carpet when Jeremy gets up so fast he accidentally spills the chips everywhere.

 

 

  
Like usual, three AM is when they actually start getting loopy.  
  
Michael has yet to restock on weed, so instead they're on the natural high of 21 hours of no sleep. It's more raw and  _much_  more heavy-feeling than marijuana, but it still has its charms.  
  
The family-sized bag of Sour Cream and Onion chips is empty, there are several marshmallows on the floor from when a Chubby Bunny challenge turned into a war, and a paused Mario Maker level (which made Michael so stressed he knocked a glass of water over with a thrown pillow) still burns bright on his small television screen. The two are on the carpet, with Michael leaning against the side his bed. He's starting to drift off, but he's distracted by the rambling Jeremy resting his head on his lap. They've been talking for a while, a couple times warning they'd probably fall asleep, but each caught and set back upward by a new topic that comes up.  
  
" _When Marnie Was There_  was total bait though, man. The scenery was really cool and like, I felt like I was  _there_  the whole time, and that was neat, but. The  _whole_  thing is gay until the very end where it's like, 'Whoops, no homo, just kidding.' Christine said she felt betrayed when she watched it." It sounds nothing like when he normally feels like ranting. Instead of emphasized syllables and wide gestures, Michael gets garbled speech and drooping eyes. He can't say he minds, though. Listening to Jeremy talk is like a lullaby.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, the ending's dumb, but honestly it's probably closer than where Disney's at --  _ow_ , dude, your chin is like a knife. Stop." At that, he receives a short apology and a shift. Jeremy's cheek is resting on his thigh, now, and Michael tries really hard not to think about how close he is to his bits.  
  
Jeremy continues, eyes closed, oblivious. "No way though, dude. You've heard of Andi Mack, yeah? There's some gay in that."  
  
"Oh yeah," Michael recalls, fingers subconsciously messing with a frayed thread in Jeremy's sleeve. "Isn't that the show Christine got you into? Like, the show for kids?"  
  
Offended, Jeremy looks up at him. "Uh, fuck off, dude. It's at least ten times woker than most shows for  _adults_  that I've seen."  
  
" _Woker_!" Ridiculously, Michael finds himself tickled by the word. An unusual, wheezing giggle bubbles through him, and it feels a little weird coming from his throat, but once he calms and looks down, Jeremy is giving him a look that's warm. A little too warm, Michael notices, what with the sudden heat in his face.  
  
"I love you," Jeremy says, "a lot."   
  
The topic suddenly takes such a hard left that Michael has to blink through the whiplash, but it doesn't take him long to sink into the words. They're even warmer than the look in his tired blue eyes, somehow. Like soup that goes down easy when you have the flu, and hot cocoa after being out in the snow, and cardigans with thumbholes and laughing with your best friend until your abdomen aches.  
  
Michael swallows.  _That's not what he means, that's not what he means._  "I love you too, man."  
  
" _I love you too, man,_ " Jeremy mocks with a deep voice, which catches Michael off guard. He emphasizes the "man," the tack-on, the subtle 'no homo' (Michael hates that that's essentially what it is). "You kissed my cheek last night," he points out, expression suddenly fixed and even a little intense. "Multiple times."  
  
Doing his best to control his Feelings, Michael swallows, running his hands through the other's hair, almost as a nervous tick. "You're really whippin' the 'what are we' talk right out, huh? At four in the morning?"   
  
This is the first time they've really talked about how they've sort of Leveled Up in terms of how physical they were getting with each other, excluding little "Was that okay"s. Obviously, they haven't been doing anything spicy, but they were holding hands more often, and joke kisses on arms and cheeks and noses and foreheads started seeming ... less like jokes. And Michael loves it, loves it more than anything, but he still can't help but feel like every kiss is stolen. Like every little thing is something he has to keep and hide away to cherish for as long as he can, until it'll be taken away from him forever. Now he's looking that possibility straight in the eye, and it's terrifying.  
  
Jeremy closes his eyes and loses the tension in his body, seemingly calmed by the nervous fingers combing over his scalp. "Yeah, I mean..." The night air is empty, with the exception of his slow exhale. "I never said anything about this because I was scared. And I'm tired of being scared. And right now I'm tired, but I'm not scared, you know? I'm just ... not. And that's kinda the rarity of the century, right?" It's a joke, but it's dry and slurred.  
  
Michael decides to speak. "I'm kinda scared."  
  
At that, Jeremy's eyes fly open and his head turns to look up at him, and shit shit shit Michael hasn't wiped his eyes clear, and his heart's beating too fast, and Jeremy's getting up he's getting up he's leaving.  
  
Jeremy doesn't leave. He softly drags a thumb beneath Michael's eye, wiping away a small tear that slipped, and Michael hates it and Michael loves it.  
  
"Why? It's okay. I promise." Shakiness is starting to seep in.  
  
Michael pulls the bony hand away from his face with his trembling own, and just holds it there between them, staring fixed at it. He stares like it's a contest, because if he blinks then a tear will fall from his other eye and Jeremy will want to wipe it and he doesn't want to trouble him with that. "I don't know," he says honestly. But he doesn't want to leave it at that, so he rambles a theory he has. "I think I just -- I, I've loved you for so long and I've ... hidden it for so long, and I'm so used to hiding, and." Grossly, he sniffs. "I'm scared of losing -- losing this."  
  
The tear has slipped. Michael's hands are tight on Jeremy's, and pale fingers grip back as much as they can.  
  
Michael is terrified of losing this.  
  
Predictably, Jeremy wipes the tear away. Michael's heart floats, but it aches, too. Maybe he imagines it, but he thinks he feels Jeremy's fingertip shake a little against his cheek.  
  
"You don't need to be scared." The voice is too soft, too gentle, and stupidly, Michael doesn't know if he should trust it.  
  
"How do you know that?" He's probably crushing his hand, but he can't stop. He just can't.  
  
But he does, when he feels another hand over his own. "You won't lose this."  
  
It's the wobbliness in his voice that makes him finally look up. Jeremy's face is red, mostly around the eyes. His eyebrows are high up, one hiding beneath the hair that brushes on his forehead, eyes shining with determination and with tears.  
  
 _Loser. You made him cry._  
  
For some reason, the thought makes Michael laugh, an empty, breathless thing, and he sinks onto Jeremy's shoulder, crying more, but not out of pain. Not really.  
  
Piano fingers are in his hair and chapped lips are on the nape of his neck. Jeremy sniffs before he talks. "I love you. In the real way. I wanna be with you. Do you know that?"  
  
Michael nods. He almost says "I know" into Jeremy's neck, but then he thinks of Han Solo and instead whispers, "I do." Fingernails lightly scratch at his scalp.  
  
He always knew. Of course he did. That knowledge was a seed that was planted at some indiscernible moment, because through the strong blur of doubt, he couldn't tell it was there. As every little moment came in like sunshine, Michael never could notice how it blossomed. He didn't want to, because he would look up and it would be gone. But it's here. It's here, and it's not just an inkling anymore. It's real. And from here it will only keep growing. And maybe it'll wilt away someday, but it won't disappear. It won't.  
  
Michael finishes crying, feeling lighter, and he pulls away from Jeremy. He left gross shit where he cried, snot and tears and probably spit. A laugh bubbles from him through his wet face and slight migraine as he wipes Jeremy's neck with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Yucko fucko," he says, and Jeremy laughs, and he feels like if his hand wasn't being held he would be floating into space. "Sorry."  
  
"I am ...  _disgusted_ ," Jeremy says, in that certain way that indicates that certain Vine, and Michael straight-up cackles, wide grin falling onto Jeremy's cheek. He's about to pull away, but gently, he's held there. He notices that Jeremy's cheeks, though they're stretched by a smile, are damp, so Michael kisses the tears away as best he can.  
  
It's clumsy, but Jeremy turns his head in a way that  _has_  to be on purpose, and their lips knock together. Michael panics, so they pull away with a quiet click, but he grins and slaps his best friend's(???) shoulder. "You -- fucking!  _You_!"  
  
An even redder face smiles, but it's sheepish and he looks down. He's acting the way he acts when he gets something, but it was a little less than what he was hoping for.  
  
Michael steels himself, but then remembers he doesn't have to steel himself.  _It's real_ , he repeats over and over again in his mind.  _It's real. It's real._  
  
He tips Jeremy's chin up, gets so close to him he can feel his breath echo back against him. When he talks, his voice is way huskier than he thought it would be, and he doesn't quite know how to feel about that: "Can we do that ag--"  
  
Within a split second, he feels hands on his drawstrings pulling him that centimeter closer. Within the next, and for probably almost a minute after, they're kissing (they're  _kissing_!). And maybe looking back on it it's a little lame, lips pecking and mouthing with each other with no tricks or tongues, but in the moment it's  _perfect_.   
  
Michael's messy mind thinks of releasing balloons into the sky, of seeing a flock of birds glide and curl overhead, of blowing bubbles and popping them with those he loves. And instead of merely watching these things fly, Michael feels like he gets to fly  _with_  them -- like he gets to float and collide and give gravity the middle finger. And, more importantly, Michael gets to be with Jeremy.  _He gets to be with Jeremy_!  
  
Michael suddenly grins so wide that he has to break the kiss, and Jeremy's eyes fly open, wide and sparkling, and the sheer force of awe knocks Michael's smile right down.  
  
"I love you," he softly notices out loud.   
  
Jeremy releases a breath on him, as if he was holding it this whole time. At this, Michael realizes that he said it a little late, which is absolutely unacceptable. He holds his face. "I love you. I love you. I love you."  
  
Suddenly, Jeremy makes a noise. It seems a little bit like a sob, but his face is red and he sinks into Michael's chest and holds him  _so_  tight, so Michael thinks he's probably fine.  
  
 _Just fine,_  he thinks, pressing repeated kisses on Jeremy's buried head, feeling his favorite person's bright, incredulous laughs vibrate through him.  _We'll be just fine._

 

 

  
They only stop when Jeremy's need for sleep causes his lips to meander to Michael's eye, instead of his cheek.  
  
They lay in bed gently clinging to each other, the dim light of the bedside lamp bathing them in a soft orange. Michael can't help but feel like he's left too much unsaid. His brain is too blurry and mixed-up to think of any words, though. He'll have to think of some excuse not to go to school -- maybe he'll just pretend to take Jeremy to school in his car, and then they can sleep in the Seven-Eleven parking lot for the rest of the day.  
  
He moves a curl out of Jeremy's face. "Jer?"  
  
Jeremy puts his hand over the offending fingers, but doesn't open his eyes. "Hmm."  
  
"Are we dating?"  
  
Eyelids open, but just a crack. There's a silence for a moment. "Do you wanna?"  
  
"Yes." Michael's so tired that his thoughts only catch up to him after he's said it. He realizes they didn't need to.  
  
He thinks he sees a smile from the smaller before he curls up and nuzzles Michael's neck. "Cool," he says into it. "Let's do it."  
  
When Michael wakes up, his best friend of twelve years will be his boyfriend. He and this silly, stupid, jumbled, amazing, incredible person that he loves with every molecule of his being will be dating. They'll belong to each other.   
  
And maybe, in the end, it won't be as dramatic as it seems. Maybe their interactions won't be all that different, and will only have some sticky-sweetness mixed in. But he knows for sure this is the start of something spectacular. Michael wants to kiss Jeremy and hold him and  _finally_  take down this glass wall of dishonesty that's been dividing them since seventh grade. Michael wants to take Jeremy's hand, and hate and defeat and love and discover the world with him. Michael wants to bloom with him.  
  
Michael's smile sinks into brown locks, and he's sure it stays there until he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> woohoo! i love confession scenes to death, i'm glad i was finally able to write one between these two :) btw hmm... i seem to like writing fics that take place during the night. i should probably diversify my settings a little lmao
> 
> please comment if u have anything to say, whether it's incoherent screaming or constructive criticism!! feedback is always very nice and i'm always looking for ways to improve my work!!! <3


End file.
